The Melody in the Memories
by piper maru duchovny
Summary: It's something that belongs to them, something no one else can touch. Set during 5x19 - The Rocker in the Rinse Cycle


**I know, I know, this is one insanely late fic. Whatever, I just got hooked on this idea while listening to Foreigner tonight. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own a darn thing. **

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**"_Hear that? That is our song! Remember 'Hot Blooded'?" _

He asks in such a way that it's almost like he believes she could erase that moment from her memory. For as long as she lived, and she planned on living for a long time, Temperance Brennan would never be able to forget that particular night. She could still see it clear as day in the recesses of her brain; dancing like she was still in high school, letting go of a stressful week, all followed by a cataclysmic trip to the refrigerator. No, Temperance Brennan would never forget that night as long as she lived.

Empty protests escaped her lips as she finds herself grabbing a guitar and joining him on stage. There was something about his giddy voice proclaiming the rock song as theirs that caused adrenaline to course through her veins and an equally ridiculous grin to escape her pursed lips. Maybe it was the lack of consistency her life had held until she met him, but being able to claim the tune as something that belonged to them, a secret that no one else was in on, thrilled her to the very core. As childish and illogical as it was, 'Hot Blooded' belonged to them.

He makes some comment about her guitar playing abilities which she stifles with a logical explanation. She doesn't want to speak, she doesn't want to explain, she wants to get lost in the power chords and lyrics. She wants to get lost in him, in them, where she can truly find herself.

Her fingers travel all over the fret board while he belts out their song so loudly he's straining his voice. His tie around his head and his grin reminiscent of the one he wore at her Cyndi Lauper rendition is enough to make her head get foggy and a throaty chuckle to escape from the boundaries of her lips. She can't possibly resist the urge to join him at the microphone as the small crowd cheered them on.

Their dancing is awkward and voices are strained as they can't possibly sing loud enough to fully emote their feelings. The corners of her mouth hurt from smiling so hard and she gets a rush when she realizes that he's smiling back at her with equal intensity. She's always rejoiced in their equality; they are partners in the truest sense, equally balanced in a way that is inexplicably perfect. To the naked eye they would seem to be the most incompatible people in the world, but in that chaos they find the inner rhythm and follow the music where it leads them.

As the eighties tune is reaching it's crescendo her fingers increase their speed and she dips into a spin that causes her to brush his lower abdomen. Her auburn hair clashing against the stark whiteness of his shirt as she catches his eyes for just a moment before returning to the standing position. So much is said without a single word and she knows he's appreciative that she caved to her equivalent of a public stoning, but really she's thankful to him.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and it's all she can do not to chuck the whole lot against a conveniently placed hard surface. With the slightest hint of disappointment on her face, she retrieves her phone and answers the call. It's Cam with the results and she knows that means it's time for the wannabe rockstars to return to their day jobs of Squint and FBI Agent. She informs Booth of the newest information and he looks at her with the softest of brown eyes paired with the slightest pout as he requests one more go.

Without a word, she returns to the guitar and they break into the chorus. She feels as light and giddy as she did that evening in her apartment with the reassurance that a bomb isn't going to ruin the perfect moment this time. The song plays it's final beats and their personas return to professional, Hot Blooded returning to the files of Brennan and Booth past times. She finds herself sad that the moment has come to a halt but rest surely in the memory she can bring back anytime she wants. After all, it's up to them to create the memories that accompany their song.


End file.
